


More Than What We Were Made To Be

by HK44



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Family Drama, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Personal Growth, or as slow as i can do im really bad at it, slowburn, trans!damian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23706094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HK44/pseuds/HK44
Summary: After a year of travelling, Damian has finally chosen to settle back down in Gotham. With his decision comes a lot more changes.
Relationships: Duke Thomas/Damian Wayne
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	More Than What We Were Made To Be

Damian brushed the dirt off his arm. It was a stray slip of lint. Removing it made him feel slightly cleaner after a lengthy taxi ride sat behind a smoker who clearly was never going to be able to scrub that stench off of his car.

It had been about a year and a half since Damian had been in Gotham. He’d left to traverse the world with Colin and Maya soon after his seventeenth birthday. After a while, they’d shacked up in a small house in Argentina, with Goliath slumbering in the forests surrounding them.

It was nice. The town they’d lived in was quiet and serene. Living there had almost felt like a dream. For the first time in what was likely his entire life, Damian was just able to curl up and relax surrounded by loved ones. But after a few months, the itch of not doing enough, of not being a hero got deep into his skin.

It was practically ingrained into his head at this point, that he was made to fight, built to be something more than the average citizen. A hero or an assassin. Just anything but simple.

Though the year travelling around the world and the few months living quietly alongside his friends in Argentina had helped him clear his head from all the shouting that echoed inside him, the voices that battled each other. Father versus Grandfather, Mother versus Grayson. Todd versus Drake even, when he got too deep into his mind.

He’d come back to the states, though he loitered just on the outskirts of Gotham, choosing to linger around in Bludhaven with Grayson.

Teaming up with him again, just the two of them for weeks on end, was a pleasant shock to his core.

Colin and Maya were coming up in the next few weeks once they’d squared away the last bit of their lease and secured their flights up. Through Drake, Damian had found a place nearby for them to settle in. Maya wanted to go to school again, get a degree, be a hero.

Colin just wanted to be surrounded by his friends, which Damian could appreciate.

After years of lacking it, after years of not quite understanding, it was highly pleasing to feel love that didn’t stem from what he was meant to be, but rather what he already was.

Damian grabbed his luggage as it was held out to him to take and passed the cab driver what he owed, barely looking back as he rolled his suitcase onto the sidewalk and in through the doorway of the apartment complex.

Drake had dropped off the keys to him a few weeks before.

At the time, Drake had frowned and questioned why Damian couldn’t just go in and get the keys himself, why he couldn’t just go in and sign the documents himself, why he needed Drake or Grayson to be an in-between, and Damian had simply looked him over and replied something scathing and left it at that.

But the truth lied in that Damian had changed. Alone with his friends, people who fought against him, never expected anything different from him, never demanded him to change or to alter himself, had been eye-opening.

For once in his life, everything felt clearer.

It was like when Father had been dead and Grayson was his Batman.

The world was calmer and something set inside of it, inside of him, peaceful. But much more intense, much more freeing.

Damian needed time to prep himself for the return.

He did not want to rush in blind and find himself conflicted again.

Wayne’s and al Ghul’s were not stagnant people and it was a shame to both his names that he had been.

Setting foot back into the city, the city that stood out stark gray and black, with sad clouds hovering dim in the sky, he felt the quiet rage that used to curl inside of him twist its ugly head back. Sure, he still felt angry. Still felt volatile. But it was so much easier to control now.

So much easier to wrap his head around instead of losing himself in his own basic emotions, like a miserable child.

Damian stepped onto the elevator, brushing back his windblown hair until the glossy texture of the metal gleamed back a presentable reflection. At his stop, he stepped off and slipped down the hall.

424.

He paused in front of the door. It looked as it had in Drake’s photos. Clean, polished.

Unlocking the door, he pushed it open, jamming his hip against it until it sluck open faster.

Sticky entrance. Just like Drake had mentioned.

He’d fix that later.

Or wait until Colin had flown in and let him fix it, clear out his nerves with something familiar.

He pulled the door shut behind, giving a quick shove to force it into place. He clicked the lock down and turned to examine the room. Open kitchen. Spacious living room. Two entrances to the balcony.

He rubbed his hands against his coat, sighing deeply.

And complete utter silence.

When he was younger those silences were coveted. In the League, silence was simply how things were. There was no noise when there did not need to be and if you could not kill with every motion muffled and quieted, then you were not efficient.

With Father, the manor was always abrupt with noise. Drake and Brown and their meaningless friends. Todd bursting in at five the morning to yell about nothing. Grayson’s loud voracious laughter.

But with Maya and Colin and Goliath, noise wasn’t loud and brash so much as it was softer, pleasant. It filled space but didn’t break at his thoughts. In the month their fan had died, Damian had found sleeping difficult, so used to the background noise of anything. Colin cooking, Maya attempting to discern money through a more reputable means than murder.

He peeled off his coat and gloves, throwing down the clothing down onto his suitcase. Stepping out of his boots, he set them aside at the doorway, digging his toes into his socks.

He inhaled deeply. Closing his eyes, he bounced up on the tips of his toes and fell back down to his heels in one swift rock.

_ Home, _ he thought clearly as the thud reverberated through his legs and into his core.

Colin had done it when they moved into their house in Argentina. It seemed like such a silly thing to do but in the moment, alone in a new place, a new person, it felt necessary.

Required almost.

When he opened his eyes, nothing had changed but he felt slightly settled. Even with the curl of unease that settled in his stomach.

Licking his lips, he looked down past the kitchen, ready to inspect everything else, make sure Drake hadn’t slighted over anything. Behind him, a small buzz curled into the air.

Damian twisted, ruffling through his coat pockets until his phone was grasped tight in his grip. Grayson’s face grinned widely at him. Rolling his eyes, Damian slid his thumb to the right and held the phone to his ear.

“Yes, Grayson?”

“You make it yet?” Grayson chirped, his mouth muffled as though he was eating something.

Damian glanced around the apartment once more. “I just arrived.”

“Awesome!” A soft  _ pwsh _ accompanied by Grayson’s small groan slipped through the receiver before Grayson was happily asking, “How do you like it?”

“It’s fine,” Damian said. “Drake did a decent job.”

Grayson snorted over the line. “Yeah, I’ll make sure he gets that notice.”

He let out another groan, shuffling sounds falling before a sudden thud and Grayson swearing vehemently in Romani. Damian rolled his eyes. For a man so athletic, he was stupidly uncoordinated. How an acrobat could fall over so much was beyond Damian’s comprehension.

“If that’s all Grayson-”

“No, Dames, c’mon. I need you to go up a floor, actually. I left a, motherfu-” The unfortunate sounds of a man crashing into a table and promptly slipping onto the hard marble floor quickly followed.

Damian frowned. “Grayson are you alright?”

Grayson breathed heavily over the receiver. “Yeah,” he grunted. “I just tripped over Mari’s toy truck.”

“Perhaps you should implement a cleanliness regime,” Damian suggested, trapping his phone between his cheek and shoulder as he fiddled with the SpongeBob SquarePants watch Mari had insisted he take with him. It was cracked near the edge from her own use.

“She’s three, Damian,” Grayson said dryly. “Not a twenty-year old in the military.”

“Learning how to be organized at a young age is good teachings for the future,” Damian retorted. “Not everyone should have to live with your inbred chaos.”

“Rude,” Grayson said. “Anyway, literally up a floor. I think I left one of my suits there the last time I didn’t make it home. That or its hiding somewhere in the house and I just can’t find it.”

“Who-”

“DADDY!” Mari’s voice broke through the air, loud even though Damian was sure she was probably just a few feet away. She took after her mother like that. “Daddy, daddy!”

“Hey, baby,” Grayson said, voice gushing with fatherly delight. “I gotta go, Dames.”

He hung up before Damian could ask him anything.

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose. He loved Mari. She was cute.

But in certain instances…

Shaking his head, he grabbed his keys and walked back out into the hallway. He locked his front door quick before heading over to the elevator. At the fifth level, he stepped out and walked directly over to the apartment that would live above his own. Literally up a floor.

He hoped Grayson wasn’t just exaggerating again.

He gave two short, sharp knocks on the door and stepped half a step back. A few seconds later, the door opened.

Damian’s stomach plummeted.

“Hey, Dames!” Duke stuck his hands in his pockets, smiling low. “Didn’t expect to see you here. How’ve you been?”

Damian’s breath hitched low in his throat.

Duke’s hair had grown out since the last time he’d seen him, braided down in tight cornrows against his head and tied back into a short, stubby ponytail. The boy, well a man now, had never been one for photos, either showing up infrequently or standing somewhere low in the background. The last likely photograph Damian had glimpsed over that included Duke somewhere clearly had to have been nine months prior.

He’d seem to hit a few more inches than Damian remembered. He wore a snug t-shirt, his arms bare and flexed as they crossed over his arms.

Damian licked his lips, blinking rapidly. He dragged his eyes from the tight fit of Duke’s shirt around his stomach and up to his face.

God, were his eyes always this nice?

“Uh, Grayson,” Damian said quickly as soon as his mind kicked in that he hadn’t responded. He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. “Grayson said he left something here.”

Duke paused, eyes flashing upwards. He pressed a hand to his mouth and nodded. “Yeah. He did leave something here.” He looked down at Damian. “Did he want you to-”

“I don’t believe so,” Damian cut in. “Mari distracted him before I could ask but it seems he was just trying to locate it in the disaster pit he calls a home.”

Duke laughed. “Yeah, it’s terrible. I visited once.” He shook his head grimly. “Never again.” He looked Damian over again, his eyes roaming just a little slower than they had previously. His eyes flicked up to Damian’s face. “You wanna come in?”

Damian nodded quickly, stepping past Duke the moment he’d shifted to the side, gesturing loosely to his side. Damian glanced around Duke’s apartment, barely taking it in before the door clicked shut behind him. He turned to the sound.

Duke smiled gently, walking over to his kitchen. “So. You back or just visiting?”

“Back,” Damian said firmly. He rubbed his heel against his ankle. “Colin and Maya are coming soon.” He frowned. “Drake did not inform you?”

Duke shook his head. “Nah, he said something about you getting here soon but nothing about whether or not it was a permanent thing.” He poured hot water into a small mug, his old Lark insignia plastered on the side of it. “I was curious though. You have fun?”

Settling on the top edge of the couch, Damian brushed back his hair. “Yes. It was pleasant.”

“That’s nice,” Duke said easy.

Damian nodded. He licked his lips. “And you’ve been well, I hope?”

Duke shot him a sly grin. “Yeah, I’ve been well.” He turned around, leaning against the counter. “School’s been kind of a killer but, hey, exams are over and I get to pass out peacefully for the next three weeks.”

Damian smiled. “That does sound pleasant.”

Duke grinned wider and sipped at his mug. He gestured at Damian. “C’mon, though. Don’t make me beg.” Damian’s stomach plummeted again. “How was Argentina?”

Damian swallowed rapidly. “Oh!” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It was good. The village we stayed in was peaceful. Not much occurred. Colin enjoyed that. Maya and I…” He winced. “We had slight difficulties adjusting at first.”

That was true. As peaceful, as calm as the village was, the first couple of weeks felt like a jumpy buzz. He was always expecting a noise, something to spring out at him and when nothing like that happened, when nothing horrible sprouted up, he got antsy.

He locked his ankle behind the other. “They had a lovely festival though. A couple of weeks after we moved in. It was colourful. And soothing.” He rubbed his wrist, thumbing over the woven bracelet one of the little girls who lived there had made him. For protection, she’d insisted. He kept it right above Mari’s watch. “Colin has videos on his computer.”

“I’ll have to check them out,” Duke said.

Damian nodded. “Uh, when I left, you were still figuring out your powers.” He cocked his head to the side, looking at Duke from under his lashes. “How’s that been? Pleasant?”

Duke rubbed his bicep. Damian licked his lips without thinking, eyes drawn to motion.

“Oh, it’s been fun,” Duke said, his eyes widening with his sarcasm. He titled his head back, the line of his throat exposed. “So much fun.” Laughing low, he clapped his arm with his free hand, a glow bursting from his palm. He waved his fingers at Damian, the light flushing over his face and leaving him tingly. Duke snorted, flexing his fingers. The glow vanished. “I did that so much last year, my roommate threatened to jank me in my sleep.” He gestured vaguely in a circle, bringing his mug back up to his lips. “That’s why Bruce put me up in this palace.”

“Did your roommate-”

“Know? God, no.” Duke sipped at his mug for a minute before frowning. “He thought I was purposely shining a flashlight at him to piss him off. Kind of an idiot, actually.” He grimaced. “The Riddler took over the news stations for like a day and kept asking inane questions and I swear-” Duke groaned, like the memory was physically hurting him. “I swear, he was getting them all wrong on purpose. Even shit that was basic human knowledge.”

“Like?”

Duke shot Damian a look. “Like what has four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon and three legs in the evening?” he said, voice full of snark. Resting his mug down so hard that it splashed a little bit onto the counter, Duke threw his hands up. “Half the time, I’m convinced my brain knew he was being a dick and just wanted to get back at him with all the flashing.”

Damian snorted. Duke rolled his eyes, throwing a spoon at him. “Have more class than that, Damian. I thought you were supposed to be better than Tim,” he teased.

“Drake would find that funny?” Damian asked innocently as he dodged the spoon. It clattered somewhere behind him. “I would’ve figured it’d be Todd.”

“Depends on how much coffee Tim’s had and how little sleep he’s gained to match it,” Duke muttered. He smiled low at Damian. “Good to see you’re actually human though.”

“I was always human,” Damian said. He smirked a little. “You however…”

Duke stuck his tongue out at him and then laughed, clear and pleased. “Hey, a meta is more human than a zombie.”

“Do you see me lurching around for brains?” Damian replied dryly.

“No, but I did see you wear that patch for an entire summer.”

“Todd made me.”

Duke rolled his eyes. “Damian, the day that someone forces you to do something pointless that you don’t want to do, is the day the world bursts into flames.” He crossed his arms. “I realized that the day I saw you punch Tim, refuse to apologize when Bruce told you to and then sneak right out of the house, even though he grounded you for being a little shit.”

Rolling his eyes, Damian said, “I remember it more as being grounded for being disobedient and cruel towards my siblings.”

“Which was code for being a little shit,” Duke said.

Damian shrugged. “Possibly.” He rubbed his thigh. “So aside from your unfortunate encounter with your roommate, how has your power development been?”

Duke sent him an odd grin. “My power development’s been fine, Damian.” He fluttered his fingertips, the glow bursting from them once more. When it faded shortly after, he asked, “How’s your dragon beast?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Dragon bat,” he corrected. Duke shrugged. “Goliath is fine. He’ll be remaining with the village in Argentina. They quite like him there.”

“I can imagine,” Duke teased. “Giant creature with the personality of an over-affectionate guard dog. What’s not to like?”

Damian couldn’t help the small laugh that filtered out of his mouth. Duke’s smile seemed to grow bigger as his gaze on Damian softened.

“You know I missed you, baby brat.” He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted slightly. “You never visited.”

Damian’s tongue felt stagnant and thick in his mouth. What was he supposed to say to that?

“I’m sure Todd and Drake kept you busy enough,” he finally let out. He swallowed and rubbed his thigh again.

Duke looked him over. “Sometimes. I spend most of my time with Cass though.” He gestured to the couch. “She finds sleeping here comfy.”

“Likely less noise from Drake’s visiting crowd,” Damian said. He stood up. “I-”

“You wanna go to dinner?” Duke asked before Damian could finish his sentence. Damian stiffened. Duke grinned. “Some new restaurants opened up since you’ve been gone and I’m tired of studying.”

“O- okay,” Damian said, blinking rapidly.

Duke grinned and stalked past him. “Awesome.” Heading towards the bedroom door, he called out, “You’re treating me though, rich boy.”

Damian laughed hollowly, rubbing his arms. “Okay, Thomas.” He inhaled deeply and rubbed his face. “Okay.”

\--

“Damian.”

The name, the voice, the sheer whisper near his being snapped him out of his sleep immediately. He grabbed the nearest object to him – a pillow – and brought it down on the person. They caught his wrist with ease.

That was fine.

He swung his foot out, catching them in the side.

They let out a soft grunt, releasing his wrist and falling into the wall. Damian pulled his arm up, ready to throw another hit, when the light finally hit his eyes properly and he took in the visage before him.

Cain’s costume hadn’t changed much. Aside from the bat insignia lined across her chest growing a little thicker and her utility belt having added another pocket, she looked the same as she had on their last patrol together.

He reached out and drew back her mask. Her eyes glittered back at him.

“Cain,” he said sharp. He fell back to his butt. “How did you get in here?”

She held up a lockpick and pointed to the window. It was slightly cracked open, not enough to chill the room, but enough that the slight breeze pushed at his curtains.

He gripped the bridge of his nose. “Why are you here?”

She looked him up and down and frowned. “Wanted to see you.” She smiled slight. “Missed you.”

Good lord, had his family been this sappy the entire time? He rolled his eyes and let go of the pillow clenched to his palm. “Then you could’ve called me earlier. Not barge in on me while I was asleep.”

She stuck her tongue out at him before throwing herself out onto his bed. “Duke lied.” She looked him over. “You’re still mean.”

He scowled. “I was sleeping.” Her eyes glittered at him as her lips quirked up. She said nothing but he didn’t like the knowing look in her eyes. There was nothing for her to know. “Why don’t you go bother Thomas if you two enjoy talking about me so much.”

She rolled onto her back and gestured to her body, flicked one of her pouches. Patrol.

Damian rolled his eyes. “Then perhaps you should be continuing it and not keeping me awake.”

She rolled onto her side and looked him over as he nestled back down under his blankets. They were a moving-in gift from Todd, given back when Damian had called them all to let them know his newer and less temporary location in Argentina. A gift he would be quick to throw out as soon as he laid his hands on some proper sheets. While warm and certainly cozy, it was gaudy and beyond his tastes.

The only reason he even kept it was because Colin, who froze down to his feet the moment a breeze touched him, enjoyed its thick warmth.

Damian buried his nose into his pillows.

Well, perhaps he’d resist the urge to “accidentally” burn it in the streets and simply make sure Colin kept it tucked away where no one would ever see.

Cain kicked at his feet. He glowered at her from over his blankets. Her expression didn’t change.

Her fingers flew through the air, dipping her fingertips into her chest then softly passing her index and middle finger over her nose like she was brushing away some dirt.  _ Have fun? _

Damian rolled over onto his side. “Yes.”

She smiled. Pointing at him, she pulled her hand back, her wrist circling her hand in front of her face as she tried to catch something in the air. She dropped her hand down a little lower, just past her chest, pulling her fingers into a fist and leaving her index finger free to make a lazy circle in the air.  _ You miss us? _

“Of course,” he admitted quietly. He cleared his throat and kicked at her thigh. “Though Alfred, Batcow, Ace, Jerry and Titus remained at the top of the list.” He cut his eyes at her. “You were close though.”

She grinned brightly and shifted up until she was splayed out beside him. “You’re staying. Right?”

He nodded. “I’m staying.”

She closed her eyes and stayed lax against the sheets beside him for a few quiet seconds before her body tensed and she brought her hand up to the side of her face. Damian watched her as she listened to whoever was talking to her over the coms. After a few seconds passed by, she made an understanding noise and slipped off the bed. She shoved open his window and ducked back out. Before she pushed the window down shut behind her, she waved her fingers at him, smiling.

“Bye.”

He rolled his eyes and nestled deep into his blankets. “Goodnight, Cain.”

She shoved the window down and vanished off into the night.

\--

Damian pressed his phone harder to his ear as he tugged his helmet off with one hand. “No, for the last time, Maya, I’m not taking Batcow. She wouldn’t fit in the fucking apartment anyway.”

“Yeah, but you’re weird, Dames,” she said.

Damian rolled his eyes. He tilted his head, pressing his phone into his shoulder as he pulled up the basket and put his helmet inside it. “Uh huh. You booked your tickets?”

“Yeah.” She clicked her teeth, a sharp whistle bursting through the receiver. Damian winced. Maya didn’t seem to notice. “Goliath’s being a big mope, though. Colin’s trying to explain that we’re not abandoning him and we’ve got a damn whistle to bring him to us but I don’t think he’s processing it.”

“Likely because he is a dragon bat and does not have full comprehension of human words,” Damian muttered dryly.

“How dare you talk about our son like that,” Maya said. Her voice grew faint. “Oi! Colin. Sexy pants! How’s the talking going?”

Faintly, Colin’s voice poured into Damian’s ear. “Poorly.”

Damian snorted. Maya’s voice fell back full. “So. You’re gonna tell him, right?”

A chill slipped down Damian’s spine. He sucked his teeth. “Yes.” He closed his eyes as he locked the basket up. “I’m doing it now actually.”

She whistled low. “Sure you don’t want to wait for us? Or-” She grunted. “-I could call Jon. I mean, I doubt he’d be up for it but he loves you so he’d be there for you, either way.”

“No, Maya. I can do this on my own.” He shoved his key into his pocket, switching his phone to his other hand. “I’ve made my decision. He needs to hear it. I don’t need backup because I don’t intend on letting him shame for my choices.”

For a moment she was quiet. And then, “This is what you want.” Her voice was quiet. “Just don’t forget that, okay?”

Damian exhaled slowly. “I won’t.”

“Alright. We’ll see you in three days.”

“Let me know the time. I’ll pick you up.”

“Okay, wonder boy,” she teased. “Talk later.”

He closed his eyes. “Talk later,” he agreed.

Then he hung up and walked inside the manor.

Nothing had really changed. A fresh sprig of flowers in the vases that lined the entrance. The same portraits hanging from the wall. When Damian took a breath, he could smell the faint odor of new paint. Likely had been there for a few days or weeks, the scent not yet faded.

The carpet that ran from the door to the end of the entrance way was the same faded blue and gold with a splattering of bleach from when Todd had tripped carrying a bucket of the stuff. Damian chewed his bottom lip and walked towards the Cave.

As he neared the kitchen, a small girl darted out from the doorway, carrying with her a large bag of chips and large goofy-looking glasses.

She jerked at the sight of Damian, letting out a short screech as she keeled backwards, tripped over her own feet and fell down. She scrambled back up into a stand before Damian could even offer assistance and shoved her glasses onto her face. She blinked rapidly at him.

She cocked her head. “Who are you?”

“I’m Damian.” He looked her over. “I assume you’re Carrie?”

Carrie Kelly. Damian didn’t know much about her. She showed up in some of the photos the others had sent and Father had briefly informed Damian of her arrival shortly after he left, to which Todd had quickly sent many texts about how to get over being replaced and cry-laughing emojis as he proclaimed stupid things like Damian being him and how Father was incapable of not picking up a new Robin every time another one bounced off to do anything, no matter how brief or how permanent.

Carrie rubbed her face, rocking back on her heels as her eyes widened. “Oh! You’re Damian? You’re Damian!” She let out a bracketed laugh, too loud, too nervous. “Damian!”

Damian stared at her. “Yes. That is my name.”

“Uh huh.” She ran a hand through her hair, bright red and tacky, no matter how natural it supposedly was. “Are you- are you here to see Bruce?”

“Yes.”

She nodded rapidly. “Okay, cool. He’s in the Cave.” She pointed behind herself. “I was going there, I can show you how to get there.”

“Unless the location somehow changed, I believe I can get there myself,” Damian said, voice dry as a desert.

Carrie flushed. “Oh, right, I just meant. Because. I’m going there. I just-” She exhaled sharply and spun on her heel. “Let’s go!”

Damian stared at her retreating back. He would’ve thought someone would have informed him that Carrie was off.

Well, she was the new Robin, he surmised as he stuck his hands into his pockets and followed at a pace slightly slower than the bouncy staccato she was rushing out. Perhaps she was unnerved by his presence. Her predecessor. The precursor to her existence.

She’d been Robin for no less than ten months by now. No doubt she was comfortable in the costume. No doubt Father hadn’t bothered to ask her about a new name in the stead of Damian’s coming.

No doubt a part of her was fearing the inevitable change.

For a moment, he considered telling her there was nothing to worry about. He’d made a choice that Robin would not suit. She could have it for as long as she wanted it.

He would not be donning the costume for patrols any longer.

She held the door open for him before swinging down onto the railing and riding it all the way down to the floor. Father was perched in his chair, dressed down in his civvies but otherwise Batman in his demeanor. He spared her a quick glance, a soft smile passing over his face as she passed him one of the waters and grabbed a case file.

His hand stroked through her hair, Carrie unbothered by the touch. The nervous bounce in her disappeared into a soft shuffle. She ripped open her bag of chips and slipped off to a table.

Damian descended down the stairs. Father’s eyes drew from Carrie to him. His expression hardened slightly but he looked pleased to see Damian if anything else. Damian ignored him, heading straight for his Batcow.

He hadn’t thought it necessary to inform Maya that he had considered taking Batcow with them. That he’d spent a few weeks peering through available Gotham housing that might be suitable for her. A place with a large backyard that she could graze and doze off in.

Nothing was truly viable save for large buildings that none of them needed and places too far outside the city limits to make it worthwhile.

She gave a loud moo as he neared, standing slow to her feet and nuzzling his hand. Alfred mewed pitifully up at him, bounding out of the shadows. Damian knelt to pet him. His fur was still soft to the touch, Batcow still fuzzy and warm against his palm.

Father closed in behind Damian, a few feet away but close enough that Damian’s instincts prickled. “Titus is at the vet,” he said. “And last I checked, Jerry was asleep on your bed.”

“He can keep it,” Damian said. He drew back up and turned. “Why is Titus-”

“Bee sting,” Father cut in. He regarded Damian silently. Damian did the same. Despite the gray growing in his hair, Father hadn’t changed either. Still stocky, still tall.

Still imposing.

He cleared his throat and smiled lightly, smiled low. “You’re back.”

“Yes.” Damian pushed his fingers over Alfred’s fur again, smiling soft. “I see your new sidekick has settled in.”

Father went tense. “Right. About that-”

“Save it,” Damian cut in. Father’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t wear the costume anymore anyway. She can keep it.”

The muscles on Father’s arms tensed. “What do you mean you can’t wear it?” His eyes roamed Damian’s body as concern marked its way into the lines of his face. “Were you hurt?”

“Father, I was beaten half to death by rock monsters when I was six and still managed to come back to the League in one piece and with a head for my wall,” he replied dryly. “Only death can keep me down and even  _ that _ has proved powerless to stop me.”

Swallowing thickly, he dropped his hands to his side. “Over the time of my travel, I came to realize several things. One of those things being that death may be useless in some cases, in others, it’s the only rational option.”

Father’s entire body stiffened, his eyes growing wide and dark. “Damian-”

“It’s true,” Damian said, narrowing his eyes. “I know it is.”

Father shook his head. “Damian, no one has the right to be judge, jury and executioner.”

“We do,” Damian said. He cocked his head slightly. “We study their cases, go undercover, immerse ourselves in this work and you still refuse to see the better light. That’s fine, Father. I won’t fight you on that. But this is the best option for me.”

Father’s voice fell deep, angry. “Damian-”

“I have spent my entire life in the shadows of people who keep insisting they know best for me,” Damian said clearly. Father opened his mouth, likely to retort something along the lines of “I do know best for you” but Damian just raised his hand and cut him off, “No. Listen to me. I have chosen this of my own volition, of my own free will.

“I am tired,” Damian breathed, struggling not to raise his voice though his temper sat there, in his fists, in his throat, needing to be expelled. He closed his eyes and let out a steadying breath and started over. “Father. I am tired of being divided into sections. I am not you. I am not Mother.” He opened his eyes and looked Father directly in the eye. “I can be both. What rule states that if my family is opposing I have to choose a side?

“I was raised to be an assassin. You taught me how to use my talents for good. For justice. I will continue on that path, just in a slightly deadlier version.” He licked his lips. “I’ve made my choice. Nothing you say will make me change my mind.”

“Damian,” Father started, voice steady with a low bit of rage tinging the edge, like he wanted to fight back a little harder. Like he wanted to shove at Damian’s walls. “I want you to think about this. About how far you’ve come since the League. Do you really want to throw that all away for- for what? Trying to reconnect with a past that was not ideal for you in the first place?”

Damian rolled his eyes and tightened his fists. His nails dug into his palms. “Sometimes I wish you listen to what I’m saying and not just extrapolate-”

“I’m not extrapolating-”

“- _ what you think I’m trying to say _ ,” Damian snapped, loud enough that Father’s voice cut off, his eyes guarded, stance annoyed, angry. Damian flexed his fingers. “Will you please just listen to me? I didn’t have to come here. I didn’t have to tell you this, face-to-face, in person. But I did. I did because I thought you would appreciate it, instead of having to witness it without warning. So, you’d know. So, you could be prepared. Like you are with Todd.

“I could’ve just asked Pennyworth to drop Alfred off. I could’ve just told Drake to get my pets but I didn’t. I came here to talk to you.” He released his fists. “I left because you never listened to me. Because your voice was always there. Because Mother’s voice was always there. Because Grandfather’s voice was there. Grayson’s, Drake’s, Pennyworth’s, Cain’s, fucking Todd’s voice was there, in my head every hour of the day, trying to push me somewhere, trying to tell me who to be, what to be and I did not exist.”

Father’s breathing hitched and Damian relaxed with the sound.

He swallowed thickly, focused on his next few words. “Damian Wayne isn’t real. He never was. And Damian al Ghul died a long time ago.” He looked down at his feet, breathing hard. Inhaling deeply, he squeezed his eyes shut. “I introduced myself to a scared little girl looking for her mother and her father in a crowded airport as Damian Wayne-al Ghul and that was the first time I’d ever felt right since Mother dropped me off here permanently. Since Grayson. Since you.”

He looked back up at Father. “And it hit me. Why I am trying so hard to be separated from what I am. From who I am. Why do I have to split all the time? Why is it always a division? Mother never refers to me as a Wayne. Always an al Ghul. And with you, it’s always been Wayne.

“I’ve thought about this for a very long time,” he said quietly, watching Father’s quiet eyes. “I am not saying I’m going to cut down every pathetic mugger that steals a purse or a wallet. I am not going to slaughter someone just because they murdered one person in cold blood. All I’m saying is that if I am attacked first or if I meet someone like the Joker-” He reached around and picked up Alfred, who mewed quietly in his hands but didn’t resist the touch. “-I’m going to cut his fucking head off without hesitation.”

Father’s body stood still in front of Damian. Still too tall. Still too stocky. Still too imposing. His eyes read no questions, his lips thin, stance frozen, like his mind was still processing Damian’s words and wasn’t sure of how to respond just yet.

He’d finally opened his mouth when Carrie’s voice cut in, loudly timid from a spot just behind Father.

“Uh, Bruce?” The two of them glanced over at her. She raised the case file over her head and shimmied awkwardly in place. “Major break in the case!”

Father smiled low at her. “Just a moment, Carrie. I’ll be right over.”

She nodded rapidly and made large, deliberate steps backwards before finally twisting on her heel and bouncing back over to her table. For a short second, Damian watched her snap her fingers at her side, her mouth moving quickly as she shifted around, going over her explanation.

Then he cut his eyes back at Father, hearing the shift in his voice, in his breathing, and not wanting to deal with it. “As I said, she can keep the costume,” he said before Father spoke. “Robin doesn’t kill.” Shifting Alfred in his arms, Damian smiled grimly. “I’ll come up with something else.”

Father licked his lips and didn’t meet Damian’s eyes, arms shifting behind himself. His shoulders seemed to lock in place. Damian readied his stance ever so slightly, Alfred dropping just the tiniest bit lower.

Father would never strike him but for all Damian knew, he was criminal. He’d done enough in his past to be deigned one.

And Father struck criminals.

But he didn’t shift. Just nodded curtly. “If this is your decision, then…” Words failed him, his breath fading out before his sentence completed itself. Father shook his head, turned around and strolled over to Carrie.

Damian dropped his eyes to Alfred’s soft fur.

Well, it wasn’t like he hadn’t disappointed Father before. He was, after all, always finding some new way to upset him. Dying, almost dying, disappearing with Jon for two weeks to vacation in Cancun at his friend’s behest, attempting to seduce his way into Grayson’s bed, “accidentally” stabbing Drake in the thigh.

There were countless times. Countless ways.

He stroked one hand down Batcow’s nose before heading over to the stairs, Alfred tucked into his chest.

This was just another line to add to his ever-growing list.

**Author's Note:**

> Another in progress fic! This one has been in the works for the last two years, I think? It's mostly outlined so it's just really finishing that up and getting it all written down. Ideally to be finished up by year end, so chapters will be posted in huge gaps.
> 
> Alright! Hope you guys enjoy where this goes!


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